


Came In Like a Wrecking Ball

by YouLookGoodInLeather



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Comedy, Fluff, Gen, Happy Endings For Everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 21:14:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10727379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouLookGoodInLeather/pseuds/YouLookGoodInLeather
Summary: The one true solution post-ACOMAF for dealing with Tamlin and his issue of being a terrible person. In which Feyre finds freedom, Lucien questions his own sanity, and Tamlin receives a metaphorical punch to the stomach.





	Came In Like a Wrecking Ball

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My-Name-Is-Fireheart @ Tumblr](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My-Name-Is-Fireheart+%40+Tumblr).



> Soundtrack: Wrecking Ball by Miley Cyrus

“I don’t…” Feyre began, slumped in the back of the carriage as they rode across the courts back to Night in the dark. “I don’t understand. How did this happen? He’s just letting me go?”

“Feyre,” Lucien said, his eyes glazed and distant as he stared out of the windows. “Just. Just don’t ask.”

*

_Twelve hours earlier…_

Scrutinising himself in the mirror, Tamlin smirked. He’d finally proven he was capable of taking what he wanted. After everyone – Rhysand, Amarantha, his father – had all pushed him around and left him feeling powerless and useless, he’d finally shown them all that he was the one in charge of the chessboard, so to speak. They could all play their games and treat him like a child, but in the end he was the one with the brute force to knock it all to pieces. The situation wasn’t ideal, but it was his. And that was something he would always cling onto.

Fastening his wedding attire, he checked himself over once more. With Feyre finally back in the Spring Court, where he belonged, they could marry. She would be his, and he could finally stop worrying about how everything could go wrong. Once they were married, everything would be back to normal.

“My Lord!” Lucien came charging through his door just as he finished adjusting his collar. He was flushed and pale, clutching his chest and panting. “My Lord- The guards just captured an Illyrian. They managed to sneak over the borders somehow and- well, we can barely just contain them. They demand to speak with you.” Straightening, Lucien composed himself. “Rhys sent them.”

Before, this would have ignited a furious panic in Tamlin, but now he just leered. Foolish Bat, scrambling to try and get back in a game he’d already lost. “Take me to them,” Tamlin ordered, pulling on his boots. “Let’s see what fun we can have with them. Perhaps I’ll turn them into a ring cushion. Or perhaps they’d be better suited to serving as a pew.”

“My Lord.”

Calmer now, Lucien led him as instructed out through the gardens to the forest. The day had dawned grey and cloudy, not at all fitting for Spring, but as they walked sunlight began to pierce the clouds above. They approached three figures, two guards blocking the third from sight. As their lord approached they parted, and so the other turned and-

It was like a kick to the face. A sledgehammer to his stomach. An electric current through every muscle he possessed. The force of it was so strong that for a long, long minute, Tamlin had no idea _what_ it was. Hell, the idea of it alone was so bizarre that he refused to believe- he couldn’t-

Standing before him was a beast of an Illyrian, strapped with muscles, their luscious long locks tangled in a flowing mane of dark hair. Their eyes were dark, mysterious orbs of shadow and their smile was a lighting slash of charm. And oh, those muscles, bulging like an overgrown infant from a tired womb. Their armour was skin-tight, decorated with a bajillion siphons, their wings so big that Tamlin could only wonder at what sort of a monster lay _downstairs_ … 

“…Tam?” Lucien said, looking at him. The ginger bastard didn’t matter any more though, Tamlin only had eyes for this majestic deity of a creature.

“…Is he alright?” One of the guards asked.

“I think he’s having a stroke.”

“Tam? Do you recognise them?” Lucien asked, trying to ignore the guards.

When Tamlin failed to respond, too busy gazing into the eyes of the Illyrian, Lucien sighed. “Go and fetch Feyre. Maybe she can snap him out of it.”

“No,” Tamlin rasped. Urgh. _Feyre_. “No. Have her sent away, far away. I don’t care where.” The winged beast stared back at him and spoke,

“I don’t believe it.”

Tamlin nodded. “You’re my _mate_.”

*

“Wait,” Feyre said, unable to quite believe her ears. “An Illyrian was his mate?”

“Apparently,” Lucien said, and then shivered. “You should have heard his thoughts. The utter _crap_ his brain was spewing. It was like love poetry born out of a lavatory.”

“I don’t understand,” Feyre mumbled to herself. “I didn’t think any Illyrian women were allowed to be trained until now, let alone given siphons.”

Lucien looked over at her. He kept looking. She looked back. “…No.” He nodded. “No! No, surely not?”

“I couldn’t make this stuff up even if I tried.”

Feyre sat stunned, staring at him, before breaking into hysterics. He had to endure it the whole rest of the ride back.

*

_CRASH_

“No- You’re staying here, and I’m going out!”

“Are you kidding me, you flimsy fae bastard! Your fragile body can’t survive the perils of the outdoors. You’re not a trained warrior like me, you wouldn’t stand a chance with the war going on. I’m going out, you’re staying at home!”

“Flimsy? I can transform into a motherfucking lion, thank you very much!”

“Bah, a big kitty cat! I have wings. Do you have wings? No. So if Hybern flooded the place, you’d drown.”

“I can transform to have wings! Where’s you argument now, huh?”

More crashing. More throwing of furniture.

It was a very, very good thing that the courtiers of the Spring Court had learned to avoid going to the upper floors, where Tamlin and his mate now argued.

“If you think I’m going to let you go wandering off, unprotected-”

“-I take better care of my mate than that, I’ll have you know. You-”

“-just need to listen to me! It’s for your own-”

“-your own good!”

They’d been at it for two months now, and neither one of them had let the other leave the house. Gabriel, Tamlin’s new, rather unexpected mate, had proved to be just as over protective and powerful as he was, for as they both claimed, they were clearly both horrific victims of those pesky _powerful male hormones_ , and it had ended in a rather bizarre stalemate. Still. At least it kept them out of the war and Rhysand’s life. Feyre had been forgotten completely.

“You ignorant aristocrat! Your sheltered existence isn’t fit for the harsh reality out of those doors!”

“You may have the wings of a bat, but you’ve the brain of a pigeon!”

“I will not-”

“-will not-”

“-Allow you to leave!”

Well. They _do_ say mates are equals. And thus Tamlin and his Gabriel lived sort of happily ever after.


End file.
